


Chalet

by tcheschire



Series: Hearth - Winter Fluff 2020 [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Allusions to death, Bickering as Affection, Competition as Foreplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Peril, Mild Spoilers, Post-Canon, Trash Talk as Affection, but like in a funny way, they love each other your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcheschire/pseuds/tcheschire
Summary: Set one year after Culture Shock. One of the perks of dating a billionaire, you decide with no additional information, is unlimited access to your very own private ski cabin. But for all that you are comfortable and happy, you can't take everything that could go wrong into account.Day Three - Ski Trip
Relationships: Kaiba Seto/Reader
Series: Hearth - Winter Fluff 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063934
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	Chalet

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Day Three of my Winter Fluff Fic-a-Thon everyone! For today, we have a piece set specifically in the Culture Shock extended universe. Unlike yesterday's fic, which is kinda-sorta set in an established AU but could stand alone, this fic will super not make sense if you haven't read Culture Shock. Additionally, if you have not read the latest chapter of Culture Shock, this contains some spoilers, as it is set approx one year post-fic.
> 
> Enjoy! And as always, if you want to see what's coming up in the series, I have the [masterlist up on my Tumblr](https://tcheschirewrites.tumblr.com/post/636907897154076673/winter-fluff-masterlist).

It was your idea, in larger part, though Kaiba had agreed and made arrangements with breathtaking quickness. Before you could even suggest a trip to Mammoth, Shigeru had sent you a memo to let you know that you would be leaving on Saturday morning. He was kind enough to include details that Kaiba often left out, such as your destination. The news that the Kaiba brothers owned cottages near scattered resorts around Japan, including one near Furano, came as no surprise to you – because of course they did – but the elder’s eagerness to vacation certainly did.

“Why not?” he said when you had brought it up to him at dinner on Thursday evening. “I’m not the machine everyone seems to think I am, do I not also deserve to take time off?”

You knew he was teasing you, though it had taken you some time to get used to the stoneset of his eyes when he made a joke. “Don’t be a jerk, I’m the one that recommended this trip. You just…”

“Don’t seem like I rest?” He chuckled, a rare sound. “It’s a common urban legend, but I expected you to be a little less wrapped up in my myth.”

You snorted around your wine, poking at your salad. “If anyone is less wrapped up in your myth, I’d like to meet them. Again, I’m the one that recommended this trip, that should be evidence enough that I don’t see you as some shining prince.”

“All right.”

“The golden boy of Domino.” Your voice took on an edge, and your eyes flashed at him from under your lashes.

“I get it.”

“The Blue-Eyed White Dragon tamer of all Japan. No, the world.”

“I retract my statement, you are clearly enamored with my myth. Is that why you’re here?”

“Oh honey.” You reached across the table space to pat his long fingers, smiling prettily at him. “You know I’m with you for the money, otherwise you’re insufferable.”

Kaiba flipped his hand up, fingers curling around yours and squeezing gently. He raised his fork to his mouth, bit down, and his eyes narrowed contemplatively. “I’m the insufferable one?”

Another sip of wine. “Votes are in, I’m afraid.”

* * *

Although you did not expect anything to go awry in the following week while you hit the slopes and soaked in onsen, you still buzzed about your floor, delegating work to the more trustworthy in your department and ensuring that whatever reports Gorou needed, he had.

You deposited (what you hoped was) the final packet of numbers early Friday afternoon, depositing them on his desk with little ado. He granted you the courtesy of poking open the cover of the folder, nodding once as his sharp eyes raked over the first page before he lit up another cigarette, angling his chair toward the window when you sat.

“I have Gaspard handling the one meeting that I had next week, and I auto-forwarded my inbox to him as well. He might pop in once or twice if he needs something specific, but in general he has a good handle on what needs to be done.”

“That’s fine. I’ll admit I don’t know which one that is.”

“Gaspard?” Your brow furrowed. “I know he’s delivered some numbers in a meeting, and recently –

Gorou waved a hand, flicking the ash from his cigarette and grinning at you. “No, no. It wasn’t a question.” As though that closed the subject.

The crease in your brow deepened, but you found yourself struggling with the beginnings of a smile nonetheless. True to his word, Gorou had been thoroughly hands-off, leaving the department and the way it was run well and truly in your hands. “You’re not even going to read that report, are you?”

“Why, is there something in it that hasn’t already been handled?”

“No, of course not, but – “

Another wave of his hand, and he slid the folder into a slot near his inbox for his secretary to file later. “Then I don’t see a reason to. I didn’t ask for it, and unless you’re here to tell me that you don’t think your department can stay afloat for five days while you gallivant off with the man whose name is on the building – “

“No, of course not, but – “ you repeated, a touch more flustered.

“Then I’ll assume you have it handled. Or your Garold will have it handled for you on your return.”

“Gaspard.”

“That’s fine. Enjoy your vacation.” It was as personable a request as you had heard from him since that first mixer, when the mask was still in place, but it held a different weight now that you had begun to know him. Still, he didn’t seem to be mocking you – at least, not entirely.

You grimaced softly, half-smile and half-glower, standing to leave. “Do you ever vacation, Gorou- _san_?”

Gorou swiveled in his chair to face you and spread his arms in display – the afternoon sun shone backlit him brightly, casting most of his façade in shadow, the angles of his cheekbones sticking out starkly and his eyes glittering from beneath the deep-set of his brow. “What is it they say in America?” he asked, switching to an English that held only scant traces of an accent; “‘ _Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life’_?”

The words held a chill, but you pried regardless. “And you love what you do, Gorou- _san_?”

The smirk canted his lips, and his eyes narrowed, wolfish in the shade. “More than anything in the world.” He stood abruptly, his personable mask back on his face, with its squinting smile – you wondered at the fluidity of his transitions. Gorou moved around the desk, clapping you once on the shoulder. “Now, please. Enjoy your time with Kaiba- _sama_. I know he is looking forward to it.”

* * *

“I don’t know why you bother him with things like that,” Kaiba said when you told him about the conversation later that evening as you double-checked everything that had been packed. “Gorou and I have both told you he won’t bother you – I gave you the responsibility because I thought you could handle it.”

“Yes, I understand that,” you replied, exasperated. “I just like, y’know, dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s.”

Kaiba sighed at the colloquialism. “Yes, you’re very fastidious, we know that – that’s _why_ I thought you could deal with the responsibility. Is that fastidiousness why we’re going over this again instead of letting the staff do their jobs?”

“You just said it yourself, you knew what you were getting into. So I checked with Shigeru last night, and he sent us the list of reservations he made, and schedules for events around the resort and the nearby town. Oh look at this,” you added, turning your phone to show Kaiba, “he even highlighted things he thinks we’d like. That’s sweet of him.”

Kaiba deposited his chin into his palm, glancing cursorily at the highlighted text, reaching over to scroll down the list idly. After a moment, he scoffed. “We are not going to the Nutcracker,” he said firmly.

You drew your hand back. “What, why? I love the Nutcracker.”

“It’s overdone, for one, and for another that’s a community theatre.”

You scoffed right back, continuing to scroll through the information that Shigeru had been kind enough to send along. “Snob.”

“We’re not going.”

“Fine,” you dismissed him, sticking you tongue out. “I’ll text Mokuba, and he’ll go with me.”

* * *

As it turned out, Mokuba was not able to go with you, to the Nutcracker nor anywhere else. Indeed, many of the preparations you had made were in vain, as less than two hours after the flight to Hokkaido, what seemed like mere moments after setting foot into the cabin, the storm began.

You watched with increasing anxiousness as the snow began to fall, then pack, then build over the first evening. You almost fretted yourself into a depression, only grounded by Kaiba’s complete lack of reaction. Indeed, Kaiba did not seem to think that this was particularly odd – “ _Expected, if anything. Calm down_ ,” he had said coolly, moving about the cabin with a casualness you found equally calming and annoying. That he had expected this seemed punctuated by the fact that Shigeru had left a note indicating a shipment of groceries – this did not quite mollify you, but you withheld judgement.

By the morning, it had not only _not_ stopped snowing, but had continued through the night, raising the level of snowpack significantly. So you fretted more, taking anxious sips of coffee, cider, cocoa that Kaiba made in an attempt to relax you. Once more, for his part, he remained unflappable, tinkering away on his laptop while a vintage holiday movie played in the background.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” he warned, not looking up.

“We’re gonna get trapped here.” You felt a space in your chest thrum, a ghost pain that you hadn’t felt in months, and you rubbed at your sternum while glancing out the windows.

You felt Kaiba’s gaze on you before you saw it, and when you turned to face him he was looking dubiously over his glasses. “We’re not going to get trapped, foreigner. Sit down.” He patted the space beside him on the couch, tugging a nearby blanket closer in invitation. “Before you have an episode.”

“I’m not going to have an episode,” you snapped at him, moving closer to him anyway.

Nested against his side like this, you were certain he could feel the pitter-patter of your heart against his own ribs, and he sighed. “Not if you calm down, you won’t. It’ll be fine.”

The next day continued to snow, but blissfully by midday the sun began to peek out, melting away the most egregious of the snowdrift formations. By the evening, the snowfall had stopped, and Kaiba announced that he would be setting out your snow gear for the following day. He seemed convinced that it would be ideal to ride.

You remained unconvinced, and you told him so.

When you woke on Tuesday morning, you already felt the stirrings of tension in your chest, and you rubbed at your sternum roughly, chastened by the groggy hand Kaiba placed over yours to get you to stop.

Calmly, he intertwined his fingers into yours and tugged you closer, your back against his chest as he nuzzled at your hair – you allowed yourself to be calmed, nestling further into the blankets until the two of you were ready to rise.

As the two of you made your way down to the kitchen after waking up properly, you were gobsmacked to find that, indeed, the scene outside of the windows was frankly picturesque – your chest still ached, that ghost pain, but it was more the emptiness of the anticipation of pain.

Pecking you on the crown as he passed, Kaiba smirked at you from the coffee maker. “When are you going to learn that you can take the things I say as gospel?”

“No one likes a know-it-all. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Don’t be absurd, everything is a good look on me,” Kaiba called without looking over his shoulder, busying himself with making breakfast. “Why don’t you go shower, I’ll take care of this and we’ll leave after we eat.”

You agreed, using the steam of the shower to cool down the residual anxiety from the previous days – the idea of being snowed in and stuck wasn’t a usual fear of yours, but it was unusual enough for you that you couldn’t predict your reaction. It seemed your natural reaction was one of distrust, and you had to remind yourself that in choosing to love him, you had also chosen to trust Kaiba and his judgement.

So you dressed in your form-fitting underlayers and joined him for breakfast, in considerably greater cheer.

“And you’ve already put everything in the car? Except for the outerwear?” you asked around a bite of toast.

Kaiba only looked up from the paper to cock a brow at you. “You _watched_ me do it. Did the snow addle your brain so hard, foreigner?”

It was only the reminder you had given yourself in the shower that held your tongue, and you merely grinned at him. “Given how ostentatious a lot of ski apparel is, I guess I’m just antsy to see your gear. Actually, let me guess, see how close I get.” You set your coffee mug down, and gesticulated. “You have a Blue-Eyes White Dragon helmet and goggles. Ooh, no, wait. Is it Kaibaman? I swear to god, if your ski suit is Kaibaman, I’m going to lose it.”

He grunted. “Stop.”

You leaned forward, grinning, the bridge of your nose scrunching in the way that he swore up and down that he didn’t like. “Or what? Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’ll do if I don’t stop?”

Fatigue washed over his face, and instead of answering simply grabbed your chin, leaning forward to plant a firm kiss on your lips in what you took for resignation.

Your expression could not have been more smug. “It’s Kaibaman,” you muttered softly into the last of your coffee, mostly to yourself.

“It’s not Kaibaman.”

It was not Kaibaman, as you discovered when you reached the lot nearest the lifts and began piling on the gear. His suit itself, shades of grey and silver accents, clearly had vague inspiration from his signature card, which in itself was not terribly surprising, but you had genuinely expected something more flashy from him.

“Surprisingly boring. I’m almost disappointed, honey. Who would have thought you’d developed taste?”

Kaiba clipped the straps of his helmet underneath his chin, regarding you coolly. “Where was all of this spirit when we were dueling? You’ve never been one for trash talk. Have you been reserving it for something?”

“Oh, are you talking about the duel where I beat you? Or the one where you had me killed?”

“I did not have you killed, that’s just misleading.” From their position around his neck, he tugged the goggles up to rest on the lip of his helmet; he sent you a chiding look.

You feigned abashedness. “Of course, you’re right, I’m sorry. The one where you _murdered me_ ,” you corrected yourself, your tone pointed but without any true venom.

“Murder requires intent. Can we drop it?”

A look of faux-concern flitted across your face as you tugged on a boot. “Goodness, you’re being awful finicky about how I talk about the time you committed an act of homicide against a complete stranger. Is it something that you’re sensitive about?”

He sighed, handing you your other boot. “I thought we came here to have a good time. Energize. Not continue to dredge up history that I thought we’d put to bed.”

Your head jerked up from tightening the strap of your boot, and your eyes twinkled with earnest delight. “Was that a pun? You do puns?”

“You know what I mean. We can argue in the cabin, or at home, but it seems a waste of the one nice day of the trip so far.” He gestured to the bright blue of the clear skies around you, shifting his weight to prop a hand on one of his poles.

You considered, perhaps a bit exaggeratedly, crossing your arms as though in deep thought. “All right,” you conceded, continuing, “If you can beat me down the hill, I’ll let it go how you killed me for the duration of the trip.”

Kaiba looked pained, a scowl lilting his lips; you batted your eyelashes at him in response. “The duration of the trip, and three weeks after,” he retorted.

A laugh ripped from your throat at that. “You’re negotiating? Don’t tell me you think you’ll win? Two weeks.”

“Of course I think I’ll win, I’m clearly the better athlete. Twenty days.”

“Better known as one day shy of three weeks? Thirteen days. And I’ll have you know that Mammoth has a 4.8 rating on Google maps – Furano only has 4.3.”

A snort, and Kaiba pulled the goggles down from his helmet, fitting them snugly over his eyes. “Fifteen days. The rating of the resort has nothing to do with your skill level. You’re in over your head, _zako_.”

He plucked his skis from the rack on the car and turned, leaving you to yelp and snatch your snowboard, trailing after him. The bickering softened in intensity during the trek to the private KaibaCorp lift, and the ride up was completely silent as the two of you stared down at the run beneath you, picking out the route that would be most likely to bring you sweet victory.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest, and you took a breath, playing through the scenarios in your mind, eagerly trying to plot the map in your head. Glancing out of the corner of your eye at Kaiba, you saw he was doing the same thing – for all that he was trying to look unruffled, arms crossed over his chest, you saw his eyes devouring the landscape before you, greedily, flinty.

You smirked, shifting your weight to make sure your dominant foot was steady for touchdown. Time began to slow, the wind picking up a lazy swirl of snowdrift around you, and by the time the lift chair reached the top, the both of you had launched from your seats, viciously turning your bodies to head back down the mountain.

Strictly speaking, you thought, watching him move into his form, he had the edge on you – he was larger, heavier, more muscular. You couldn’t be sure how much practice he had, but you did know that the last time you had gone on a trip to Mammoth with your friends had been in college. The muscle memory seemed to have mostly been retained, thankfully, though you found yourself floundering on more than one turn that you attempted too sharply.

By all blessings, though, you remained upright, and you even felt confident enough to veer into the trees nearby, bursting out along a bank in a jump.

Part of you wanted to keep an eye on where Kaiba was – if Duel Monsters had taught you anything, it was to watch your opponent – but the longer the run went on, the more you realized you could ill afford to let your focus slip. You gained speed ferociously, very little of the snow in this area of the mountain being powder, and you began to slip out of your body somewhat, watching the trees whiz past you.

Feeling bold, feeling free and weightless and _delighted_ , you whipped back into the wooded area for another jump, taking to the air with a whoop. The moment your board hit the ground, though, you felt something wrong.

A slight veer confirmed it: the board was coming loose on your back foot.

 _Shit_. There was a brief moment of panic, more frustration than anything, and you quickly considered your options – from the way it felt through your boot, you could pretty easily veer off to the side, swerve to a halt and resecure the board to your foot. You weren’t a fan of this option, to be honest, mostly because you were fairly certain you could still complete the run. You simply had to press down a little more firmly with that foot – however, that would slow your velocity down considerably.

On the other hand, the runoff was coming up. You could even see it, the steam of the cafeteria rising cheerily into the sky, and the dotted figures of other skiers and snowboarders.

You bit your lip; the longer you took to deliberate, the more the decision would be taken away from you.

It wasn’t worth it. You knew that, in your heart, after everything else you had been through, to attempt something so foolhardy was the last thing you wanted to do. With some resignation, you twisted in an attempt to turn, to veer into the nearest bank to resecure your boot.

Alarm coursed through your body at the clicking sound that you heard upon the turn, and the speed at which your body began to move into the treeline. You wouldn’t risk looking down when you knew what it meant – your boot had come loose entirely.

 _Focus!_ You grit your teeth, gently leaning your weight back in an attempt to both keep your balance and to put on the breaks – this did not turn out the way you had hoped, and you felt one side of the board slip on a patch of ice, vaulting you further forward.

In spite of yourself, your knees bent at the jerk, and your foot loosened against the board.

You were going to fall. You could not guess how fast you had been going, but you knew for certain that you were about to make an unfortunate collision with one of the sturdy trunks about you.

 _No_. If you could just twist your body further down, you could roll into the snow. It would still hurt, certainly, and you would likely break the leg, but your head wouldn’t be in any danger. You sucked in a breath and lowered your shoulder, bending your knee to begin the motion.

Violently, abruptly, the wind knocked out of you completely, and you felt your body collide with something firm and warm, tumbling into the crisp snow of the woods. You rolled once, twice, vertigo roiling your gut, and your helmet collided with another in a distinct plastic _clack_.

And then, just as abruptly, with stars shooting off behind your eyes, you and the other body stilled, the world around you shaking and spinning in a way that pulled you violently back to another time, and distantly you heard the clinking of glass and a scream.

You pressed your hands against the expanse of chest underneath the grey ski suit, and the body shifted.

His skis clattered against your snowboard, tangling your legs up abominably – unbothered, Kaiba raised himself onto one elbow and deposited his chin onto his fist, looking for all the world as though the two of you were reclining in bed or on the couch and not in a crumpled pile in a mountainous forest in Hokkaido.

“There, I saved your life – that means I’ve broken even, and you can’t bring it up ever again,” he crowed.

You ripped the goggles and helmet from you, suddenly feeling claustrophobic; your other hand rose to grip his arm tightly. Gulping large breaths of the cool air, your brow furrowed. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you protested.

Kaiba shifted the arm you held onto slightly, his hand drifting to find your side, and you felt the grip through his thick gloves and your many layers. He had already leaned most of the way down to you, so you reached up with your free hand and peeled the goggles from his eyes. “I think it is,” he murmured against your lips.

You pressed a kiss into him and let him hold you there for a second, simply melting into the security of him. After a moment, you broke away, and poked him on the forehead.

“Best two of three.”


End file.
